A Jarful of Moondreams_What does it take to make a dream true?

by Chrissie Bradshaw

Alex was grateful that she had time to prepare to do battle. She didn’t want to upset her Mum but she had to persuade her to drop the idea of that high-and-mighty doylem being in charge of her. She even managed to clear up and stack the dishwasher with Cleo afterwards.

  At long last, Cleo headed for home and left Alex’s iPhone on the hall table. She could take it to the tranquillity of her room and plug into some music. As she felt her body relax into the bed, she breathed a long sigh of relief. When was Mum going to mention her ridiculous plan? Whenever it came up, she was forewarned and she would be ready to tell Mum that putting Cleo in charge of her was the most hideous idea ever.

  FLOWER MOON

  5

  Cleo’s week flew by and when Thursday arrived she was well prepared to deliver her presentation. Bearing in mind the mix of people who were governors at the school, she had spent hours on making sure her slides would get her message across to them all.

  After all that preparation, Cleo was running late. Maybe she should have stayed at school instead of coming home to change. She noticed a message flashing as she passed the worktop where her phone was lying. Oh no, she’d left her phone on silent again. The text was a reminder that her taxi had arrived. Already? She checked her watch, bloody hell, talk about cutting it fine; she had twenty-eight minutes to get back to school. That’s if the driver was still waiting.

  A last minute touch up of her nails, with a quick-dry to pick up her bag and attempt to put her phone into the side pocket with stiffened digits - Edward Scissorhands style. Her phone flashed again, an incoming call. Damn, she just didn’t have time to answer. Blowing on the nails of her free hand, she took another glance at her watch and decided that, whoever it was, her caller would have to go to voicemail. Twenty-seven minutes to get to the room and ready to greet the governors who were attending tonight’s meeting.

  In the two years that Cleo had been deputy head, she often went along to governor’s meetings. None had made her feel as nervous as this one. Presenting her plan to create a purpose built unit for pregnant students complete with crèche that would serve their own school and others in the area was going to be a challenge. The project was close to her heart and she couldn’t contemplate the governor’s declining the idea. It was what the area, the girls and their babies needed and the plans had to go through.

  Cleo ran downstairs from her apartment to her waiting taxi.

  ‘Three minutes on your meter already, pet,’ warned the driver. Cleo caught his triumphant look through the rear view mirror.

  ‘I know, I know, I got held up. Just take me along the river route to Tyneview please, it’s quickest.’

  He shrugged. ‘If you say so.’

  Touché. Cleo knew that back route was also the cheapest. Hoping her nails were dry, she tunnelled through her bag to check her USB flash drive was still there in the small zipped pocket and then moved past her heeled shoes for later and a myriad of other daily necessities to reach a bigger pocket stashed with tubes of sweets. Grabbing a half tube of love hearts to munch on, she settled back into her seat.

  It was Cleo’s first chance to relax since she’d rushed down a sandwich at lunchtime while planning a cover timetable for a teacher who’d gone home sick. There hadn’t been any spare staff to cover the last lesson and that Year 10 class would have been troublesome for a teaching assistant, so Cleo had covered the lesson herself and enjoyed teaching the class.

  Her planned quick getaway at four o’clock was shelved when an irate mother, wearing a jeweller’s shop worth of chains and studs, stormed into reception. She was protesting, on her daughter’s behalf, about the school’s ‘rubbish’ jewellery policy and was adamant about seeing ‘one of them bosses’ or she’d be reporting them to ‘the civic’. An hour, two cups of tea and a few tissues later, Cleo had waved off the mother who had problems coming at her from all directions and had needed to vent her spleen on someone about something.

  All this had left Cleo with just over an hour to get home, freshen up, park her car for the night and get into a taxi. She would have stayed in school until after the meeting, but she was meeting her friend Heather, afterwards.

  Heather juggled a hectic family life but always kept their every-other-Thursday night catch up, so Cleo made sure that she did too and this quick turnaround was worth it. She hadn’t spoken to Heather all week and they’d have loads to catch up on.

  Cleo ran through all the points she wanted to get across to the school governors at the meeting that lay ahead. Her plan to open the unit was a brilliant one and one massively generous donation meant they had the funds for it. Her project would enhance education in the whole authority because other schools were eager to opt in to the facility. She knew it was what the city needed and the rest of the school’s leadership team agreed, but she had a mixed bunch of governors to convince. Her presentation had to be a success. It was because of Mum and what she had gone through having Cleo in her teens, that she was determined to get this unit up and running.

  As they approached school, Cleo remembered her missed call. She checked to see who’d been trying to reach her. Was it Mum ringing to wish her luck? No, it was a voicemail from an unknown number. Whoever that was, they would have to wait.

  They were an hour into the meeting before it was time for Cleo’s presentation and she had used that hour to guess who she could count on and who she would need to persuade. She thought the numbers were even so she certainly had her work cut out.

  ‘Miss Moon, can you talk us through your proposal for refurbishing the East wing of the school? Explain what you want to use it for and go over the funding for your project?’ The Chair of Governors gave her an encouraging smile, he had been very impressed when he first saw the plan and would back her.

  ‘The East wing of the school is in sound condition but it has not been used since we opened the new sports block last year. I’ve done a fair amount of research and found that, with a refurbishment that is mainly cosmetic, we can utilise the wing to open an education area for teen mothers and pregnant students and run a crèche for their babies.’ Cleo’s power point sprung into action and showed how the wing would be transformed.

  She’d added some cute baby pictures from another nursery she’d visited to try to soften the harder hearts. These were left on screen as Cleo closed with, ‘This evening, I would like you to consider how much this TeMPS unit would benefit the community and to agree with this plan in principle.’

  ‘Is it really needed?’

  ‘Surely we want to discourage this sort of thing not support it.’

  ‘Are there enough cases to warrant a full time unit?’

  ‘Seems very ambitious to me.’

  ‘Pie in the sky more like’

  A barrage of comments, queries and objections were fired across the table.

  By now, Cleo was in her stride and, as she had anticipated these responses, fielded each question truthfully but with enough background information to show the board why the unit was necessary and how it would provide for several other schools, as well as their own.

  ‘It’s alright you asking us to agree to this in principle, Miss Moon, but where is the money being taken from? It must be taken from somewhere’ the ruddy-faced, disgruntled vice chair butted in.

  ‘Thankfully, that is not the case. We already have a small local authority grant to refurbish the wing and the running costs, which will be shared between all the schools involved, are less than educating these young people out of school.’ Then Cleo delivered her winning stroke. ‘We have also recently been given a large donation to set up this teen mothers and pregnant students unit by a generous benefactor who wants to support this community.

  ‘How large?’ boomed Mr. Vice Chair.

  ‘Half a million pounds large,’ Cleo scanned the table and beamed at them all.

  ‘Well blow me down, that’s a different story.’ The vice chair almost cracked a smile.

  ‘Money to burn if you ask me,’ Mrs. Harris whispered loudly to the equally m
iserable Mr. Harris; two killjoys in one marriage.

  ‘Time to go for the vote then,’ said the Chair. ‘Those in favour?’

  Cleo sat down and waited as the mutterings subsided and hand after hand went up. She’d convinced more than enough of them. Her heart was doing a happy dance. Now she could start making her plans a reality.

  Cleo rested her forehead on the cool mirror in the staff cloakroom and let out a long sigh of relief. She looked up and grinned at her reflection. She had done it. The governors had believed in her; that she would be able to set up the unit for teen mothers and make the changes she wanted without too much extra cost to the school. Now she had to make sure her new ideas worked.

  Under the harsh light of a bare light bulb, Cleo topped up her lip gloss in the old flecked mirror. She didn’t look too bad considering she had been on the go since six that morning. Her dark bob was still shining, her fringe hadn’t gone flat and black trousers teamed with her new cobalt blue jacket would take her easily from governor’s meeting to the Vineyard wine bar, once she had changed into some decent heels.

  If only her cheeks would lose the rosy glow they always took on when she was passionate about something. Presenting her ideas and answering all the challenging questions had given her cheeks spots of colour that did not go well with her new lip colour, ‘Insouciance’. She’d liked the shade, but the name sold it. She’d bought it hoping it would make her feel that way during next week’s mid-term break.

  Cleo rushed down the echoing corridor turning off the lights as she made her way to the main doors, her mind half on the meeting and half on next week’s half term break. Seven whole days and six romantic nights touring the Italian Lakes with Neil.

  Half term would give her the chance to relax and spend more time with him. They had literally fallen for each other when they bumped into each other while skiing during the Easter holidays. Living in different towns meant that they had only spent a few weekends together since then. She had to admit that Neil didn’t give her butterflies or fill her waking thoughts, but he was fun, fit and entertaining and she was willing to give their relationship time to grow. He’d apologised for being sulky last weekend and promised to make it up to her on their holiday.

  Jim, the caretaker, was at the door waiting to lock up and her taxi was parked outside.

  ‘Enjoy the rest of your night,’ said Jim. Cleo saw him glancing at her change of heels.

  ‘I’ll enjoy what’s left of it, Jim. You too. See you at opening time tomorrow.’ Cleo liked Jim, he was great at his job and they were usually the first staff in the building and last out.

  It was almost nine when Cleo strolled into the wine bar peering into the darkened space to see if Heather had arrived.

  ‘Hi, over here,’ Heather was waving from their favourite booth. ‘A couple were just leaving our space as I ordered a bottle,’ she said, deftly pouring a large Chenin Blanc for Cleo and returning the bottle to the bucket to chill.

  ‘You can’t guess just how much I need a seat and I need this too,’ Cleo took a gulp of her wine. ‘It’s been a long day.’ Their booth was ideal; they had a view of what was going on yet it was far enough from the music speakers to make chatting a possibility. Cleo took another sip of chilled wine and felt the day’s burdens begin to loosen their grip. As Heather’s gaze left the bustling bar and came back to her, Cleo beamed.

  ‘Love your hair like that, Heather. It suits you.’

  ‘You’re joking, right? I was in a rush after putting Archie to bed and couldn’t find the straighteners in the bedlam of my boudoir so I just had to come out ‘au naturel.’ I’m just glad we’re in a darkened booth.’

  Cleo knew that Heather got frustrated with the products needed to manage fair skin that hated the sun and softly waving hair. She loved the red-gold, bordering on ginger that you would never get in a bottle. Usually Heather had it tamed into a glass-smooth sheet of toffee or worn tied back, but the curls framing her face this evening suited her.

  ‘First of all, I’ve got to tell you about my successful presentation and how I think I can actually see this unit happen.’ Cleo was off on her favourite subject.

  Two generous glasses later, they had almost exhausted the ins and outs of education for pregnant teenagers and the trials of juggling journalism with domestic mayhem and emptied the bottle.

  When Cleo came back with a second bottle, never a good idea on a work night but something that inevitably happened when they got together, she saw that Heather had a look of glee that wasn’t just at seeing a chilled wine.

  ‘I can’t believe I haven’t had time to tell you this already. Guess what’s happened!’

  ‘Oh no, not again,’ groaned Cleo as she slid back into the booth.

  The reporter in Heather loved to spice her conversations with the intrigue of a guessing game. It was likely to be about one of her men and Cleo was happy to play along. ‘Now let me see, has Archie made a model to rival Antony Gormley’s ‘Angel’ from his Play-Doh? Or, has Mark finally agreed to a puppy?’

  ‘No, no, it’s not about either of them. It’s really a guess who, I suppose. Guess who Mark is meeting this very weekend.’

  ‘Give up.’

  ‘One big hint then, he was the first love of a very good friend of mine.’

  ‘Dan?’ Cleo’s voice sounded funny and she felt a rush of heat to her cheeks. Thank goodness their corner was dimly lit, Heather missed nothing.

  ‘Right first time. He’s had enough of being the flying doctor of the outback and he’s back here sussing out the job scene. Just imagine, he may be moving back here to the North East. Don’t be surprised if he gets in touch.’ Heather’s smile was gleeful.

  ‘Sorry to steal your thunder, Heather but I’ve already met him and it was a total nightmare.’

  ‘You never said,’ Heather gave Cleo an astounded look.

  ‘I was going to tell you but the success of tonight’s project put the humiliation of Saturday night out of my mind for a while. You might guess that, like all things that end badly, it involved Alex.’

  Heather was so gripped by the tale of Dan and Edinburgh that, halfway through, Cleo had to remind her to take a sip of her wine. Cleo loved the way Heather added ‘My God’ and ‘Oh no’ in exactly the right places. It was good to have a sympathetic ear.

  At the end of it all, Heather asked, ‘So you did still have feelings didn’t you? For Dan, I mean.’

  Cleo twirled the stem of her wine glass, looking for an answer within the pale liquid.

  She looked up, ‘For a brief moment I thought that I did. The old attraction was still there but Dan and I were over a long while ago, you know that, and we’ve both moved on.’

  Heather’s enquiring journalist eyes were watching Cleo so closely that she had to avert her gaze as she said, ‘End of subject.’

  ‘End of conversation for tonight,’ conceded Heather. They’d all been friends and dated from sixth form. Heather and Mark had stayed together, married, had Archie and were like family to Cleo. Cleo and Dan hadn’t made it.

  Back at her apartment, Cleo set about the comforting ritual of getting ready for bed. This was a cleansing, toning and creaming workout that gave her time to wind down. Throughout it all, she thought about seeing Dan last Saturday. He had filled out and grown into those long limbs, he still had long hair that flopped over one eye and he was just as funny and good-natured. What she couldn’t stop thinking about were his kisses; they aroused feelings that nobody else had ever come close to.

  Sorting clothes for the morning was another ‘must’ before bedtime. As she hung her light grey suit and a white silk shirt outside of the wardrobe door, she was flooded by more memories of Dan. Those intense blue eyes that could melt even her practical heart. Try as she might to turn her thoughts to work, or to the list of jobs she had to do before she could relax into a week’s holiday, Dan was there.

  Their split, a year after they’d both gone to different universities, had been agonising. People assumed it was bec
ause they were studying in different cities but it hadn’t been that at all. The main reason that she had fallen out, but not fallen out of love, with her first love was her sister. In Cleo’s eyes, Alex Moon had a lot to answer for.

  It was nudging onto midnight when Cleo crossed her bedroom to draw the curtains against the city lights. She paused, it was a new moon; as a child, it had felt special to share her name with that faraway globe in the sky. She and Mum had always remembered good times on a full moon and made a wish to put into their ‘moondream’ jar at their first glimpse of a new one.

  This was the beginning of a Flower Moon; Mum had taught her the name of each full moon. She had always supported Cleo in everything she wanted to do and now she had to overcome her dislike for Alex to give her Mum the break she deserved.

  She reached for her phone to text Mum to say the presentation was a success and saw the reminder that she had a voicemail from an unknown caller. As she listened, she went from cold to clammy and her hand tightened around the phone.

  ‘Hi Cleo, I wanted to catch you to wish you luck for your meeting and to say I didn’t mean everything I said to you last weekend. I hope you don’t mind that I got your number from Alex. Take care.’

  That familiar deep voice melted her heart; he’d remembered her presentation was tonight and he had called. What did ‘take care’ mean? Was it goodbye or was it can we talk? Alex had given him her number; her sister had done something right for once.

  A hectic day, followed by a lot of wine, had left Cleo with a raging thirst and a dull throb at her temples so she drank a glass of water and hoped that it would make her feel better by morning. Just one more early start before her mid-term break. Troubling thoughts of spending the whole of that break with Neil and remembering the way she felt when she heard Dan’s voice meant that Cleo fell into an uneasy sleep.

  6